Dirt
by Dr. Doomsday
Summary: He was just a dockworker, an average man in an unaverage city. He'd seen the city's fall from grace; he'd lived through it firsthand. Now with newfound power, he has the chance to bring it back. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.
1. Chapter 1

You know, I hate this city.

Brockton Bay. The big BB. The leadin' exporter of criminals per capita for the entire east coast. I mean, we make Detroit look like a gated community. Alright, it's a pretty bad gated community, but, hey, you know what I meant. Why do I hate this city? It's quicker to tell you the few things I DON'T hate about it, but here it goes:

Look, here's how it is - this city is held together with duct tape, broken dreams, and federal funding. You have the PRT - the Parahuman Response Team for all you folks living under a rock - waltzing around like they own the place; and that's probably true considering they answer only to the Feds. The police - you know, the average Joes - they just can't compete with some guy that can throw a car at you. They know it, the gangs know it, the PRT knows it, and if you lived here you'd know it too. For the most part, they keep their heads down and just try to make it to retirement. Now, I know what you're gonna' say: "But that's not true! I've seen them around the block every once in a while, you can't say that!" To that, I'll say: True. Yeah, they can get around now and then.

So what?

They've got a playbook they go by, you know? Basically, it's asking themselves: "Does it look like a Cape? Go call the PRT." That's it. And while that doesn't seem too bad, think about it again when you consider that most crime is from the gangsters. Some two-bit criminal with a piece and a bad attitude. Normally, yeah, they'd deal with it, but when the guy's got a line to Car-chuck McChucklehead, well, they can pull some stuff they wouldn't get away with on their own. The Joes can't raid a gang hideout if they're outclassed by a Cape. This is also the reason why criminal gangs - the ones that matter, anyway - are anchored by serious cape leadership, but that's a story for another time.

Every once in a while you get some poor naive fool who thinks he'll change things, that he'll make a real difference; then you read the paper and find out they got themselves murdered and then all you can do is shake your head, pray it doesn't happen to you, and feel that ball of fear in your belly grow just a little bit more.

So, you got a lot of crime here. Normally, you fix that by making sure every law-abiding guy and gal have a gun on them at all times and the problem eventually solves itself, but I say again:

Capes.

Always with the Capes. Why bother shooting something that doesn't get hurt by it? The ones that can be hurt, well, good luck getting a shot at them. Lately, it just seems like the PRT's content just sitting pretty, twiddling their thumbs while the gangs operate practically unopposed. The worst part is, you take out one, another one moves right in. Years ago, we had this Cape, Marquis his name was - real fancy fellow, high class - basically running his gang single-handedly. Honestly, the guy wasn't too bad; he had this code, you see: don't hurt women and children, don't get the average Joe involved - you know, the fantasy of what the Mob supposedly did back in the day.

Of course, that only works if all the other guys play ball. Say what you will, but crime's an equal-opportunity employer.

Anyway, one day he gets nabbed somehow, gets himself thrown into that fancy cape prison called the "Birdcage", and, I kid you not, not even a week goes by before I see all the schmucks sniffing around their old hangouts. Same game, different name.

Honestly, I don't blame them.

Well, no, I hate the bastards, but I can understand why some of them do what they do. There isn't any other option for some of them, not here. I'm not saying that 'oh, I need to make some cash, but I don't wanna be a janitor or a factory worker or any other thankless job like that, better rob some poor folks', but I mean they really don't have any other options. Business in this city is drier than a desert, due to the fact that some chucklehead got the bright idea to scuttle some ships in front of the docks and jam up the whole thing. What's the point of a port city if you can't use that actual port?

Basically, you've got three chances: you get lucky with having some brains and can either get the hell outta dodge or run a business, you can put on a smile and look good while doing it, or you know a guy who knows a guy.

Don't have any of those?

Too bad, so sorry, my condolences, yadda yadda yadda. Now, either get out or get in line, because it stretches around the block.

Me, I'm a guy who knows a guy, and that guy is Danny Hebert. He's a good man, but with a hell of a temper. Head of hiring for the Dockworkers Union, so he's basically the lord and master of everything in it. In days like these, you aren't going anywhere as a dockworker if you don't have the Union backing you. Words of advice: just like how you shouldn't anger your bookie, don't anger the guy who signs your checks.

Shame about his wife, though; he hasn't been the same since she passed.

But I'm getting off track. Let me just say it again; I hate this city. I hate the gangs, I hate the business, and I hate the costumed clowns that run around either taking whatever they want or pretending that they can punch their way out of a bad economy. I hate the fact that the future looks bleak, and that nobody seems to either care or be able to do anything about it.

But now, that's all gonna change.

Because now, I'm gonna be a Superhero.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up. Immediately, my head feels like someone lit a firecracker inside my skull. It's all I can do to not vomit right there. There's a ringing in my ears, disorienting me. I cling to the ground like a drowning man to a life preserver, hoping to ride out the waves of nausea. As a distraction, I focus on the sensation in my fingertips. The earth is firm, packed, but yet it is also warm to the touch, like freshly moved mulch. The blades of grass surrounding my fingers are thick and healthy, and I can smell their fragrance. I stay like this for a while. It isn't so bad, in a way. I can't remember the last time I laid in grass like this.

Wait.

Grass?

Instantly, I tear myself away from relaxation to confront this new thought. There're inconsistencies here that demand attention: Brockton Bay is in the middle of winter. There shouldn't be any live grass. The dirt shouldn't feel warm.

Something's wrong here.

As much as it pains me, I open my eyes.

The light is blinding, doing no favors for the remains of my disappearing headache. I involuntarily shield my eyes with my forearms as best I can while lying prone; they're slow to adjust to the light, but they'll get there eventually. I force my hands to my sides and use them to prop myself up, letting me position my legs under me. I notice that there's none of the usual small aches, the warning signs of the reward for a lifetime of physical labor.

Thinking about it, I feel... good. Last time I felt this good was when the docs pumped me full of morphine after I busted my ankle - hold the phone.

 _My ankle is fixed._

Mother of Mercy, my ankle's fixed. It feels like it did 20 years ago. Jesus Christ, everything does! I feel like I could run a marathon!

The smile that's plastered on my face starts dropping as I start paying attention to what's around me.

I appear to be in some kind of woodland. In the far distance, I notice rolling hills stretching to the horizon. All around me, I can see trees dotting the landscape; not enough to block the sun, but close enough to allow some of their shade to overlap. More interesting to me is the fact that all of the trees are almost perfectly vertical, to the point where it looks unnatural. It was as if someone had tied a straight bar to them when they were still growing. While I'm taking this in, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to look at it and see a squirrel staring at me from a branch. We lock eyes for a moment before it chitters something and scurries away. I give a sigh through my nose, but I feel a slight relief at the sight of the familiar animal.

"So, feeling better?"

I spin around quickly to face the direction of the voice. I see him a couple yards behind me, standing as still as if he was there the whole time. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, tanned skin, with a height around 6 foot. I pause for a moment before I respond.

"Yeah. Where am I?"

I sure ain't in Kansas anymore.

"This land is known as Terax, and I am its Guide," he responds. His answer only raises more questions from me.

"Where is Terax? What do you mean by Guide? Why am I here?" I need information, and I need it now. He takes a moment to digest the question before he responds.

"Well, Terax is Terax. From the oceans surrounding us to the stars above and the magma below, it is all. As the Guide, it is my duty and privilege to answer questions that you ask, much as you are doing now. As to why you are here, well - why is anyone here? That's one of the big questions, isn't it?"

There's something off about his voice. Something in its tone that doesn't belong, but I can't place it. I _can_ tell that his last response was as smartass as it was intended to be.

"Don't bullshit me," I reply firmly. I don't have to play this game. "You knew I was here. Now answer the question." I could see him get slightly flustered by my blunt response, but he hides it well.

"Now, there's no reason to be upset. I only know as much of the _why_ as you do," he replies. I can't shake the feeling that he's leaving something out, but I have more important things to ask.

"How do I get back to Brockton Bay?" I don't phrase it as a question.

"...Brockton Bay?"

For the first time, I catch him off guard. The amusement I get from this is tempered by his unhelpful response. From the blank stare that he gives me, he's either unaware of where I'm from, or he's really good at playing dumb. I'm not sure which worries me more.

"Brockton Bay," I continue, "my home. Located in the state of Maine, in the United States of America." I can see a growing look of confusion on his face - it's almost a look of sadness, as if he's upset by something.

"I... I'm sorry, but I don't understand," are his only words.

Oh, forget this.

Obviously, this isn't getting me anywhere. I give him a meaningless parting word of "Thanks," and turn away from the geography class reject. As I walk away, I anticipate him trying to stop me, but he's as silent as the grave.

Suit yourself, I guess.

-[]-

I make it about a five minute's walk away from him before everything goes to shit. In one moment, I get nearly blindside by some unknown object. Thanks to already being on my guard, I juke out of the way in time, taking a second to appreciate again just how _young_ I feel, before noticing what exactly I dodged. At a glance, it appears to be a... giant green blob of Jell-O?

What?

As I feel my lips repeat my thoughts, I can hardly believe my eyes, but there it is; a giant pile of quivering, lime-green Jell-O.

This is cape stuff, isn't it?

While I may be feeling like a million bucks, I'm not going to voluntarily tangle with parahumans anytime soon. Unfortunately, the Jello has other ideas; it bounces towards me again while I'm standing there, looking at it like an idiot. I'm a bit too slow on the uptake, and my arm grazes the monster.

It's painful.

It feels like an acid burn on my skin. I look at my arm to check the damage. It's pretty bad; the skin on my arm melted off.

...The skin on my arm melted off.

The SKIN on my ARM melted OFF.

My mind races as I try to make sense of what's happening. With these injuries, I should be going into shock right now, yet I feel focused. Calm, even. The pain seems to be diminishing, but I know from experience - be careful when you handle old car batteries - that it shouldn't happen this quickly.

More importantly, I need to deal with the threat in front of me. I can't punch it, can't kick it, and I don't have anything to hit it with. I don't see any low-hanging branches that would work for me - they're either too big for me to confidently break quickly, or they're so small as to not be worth the effort.

Facing this decision, I make the sensible decision.

I run away.

-[]-

"GUIDE!" I yell as I near the clearing where I first met the man, "IT'S YOUR PROBLEM NOW!"

I've no love lost for the guy who didn't give me a single word of warning about the _acid monster_ that was trying to kill me. While I don't actually hope for him to be injured, two heads are better than one for this problem.

I steal a glance behind me to see the monster keeping pace. I'm slightly faster than its hopping speed and have put a few dozen yards between us, but it is relentless in its pursuit. Still running, I turn ahead and catch sight of the Guide again. I can see his eyes grow wider as he registers the sight of the monster behind me, and then smoothly _sticks his hand inside his body and PULLS OUT A WOODEN BOW AND ARROW._

I dive out of the way as the arrow sails through the air near where my head was. I can hear what sounds like a squishy "Thwack!" as what I can only assume to be the monster gets impaled by the arrow. Turning, I see several more arrows fly towards the acidic blob. When the last one connects, the creature shudders and implodes, turning itself into countless bits too small to see.

I take a moment to compose myself and deal with the sudden confrontation with my own mortality before I give the "Guide" a piece of my mind.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" I shout, louder than necessary, all sense of decorum thrown out the window.

"That was a slime monster; one of the more common, weaker enemies to roam Terax," he replies, without missing a beat. He takes the opportunity to shove his weapon through his chest, causing it to disappear.

Well, this answers the question from earlier. Yes, yes this is cape stuff, and he's the cape.

"You think you could have given me a warning about the monster that'll try to melt me, huh?" At this point, while I am breaking my earlier decision to not get involved with Capes, I really just don't care at this point.

"A warning? For a single slime?" he says with a grin on his face like it wasn't that big a deal. The nerve of this guy! "You shouldn't have any difficulty with them. Just take out your sword, and have at it."

What a real comedian, this guy is.

"What sword?" I respond angrily. "Do I just put my hand through my chest like you did?" I mock, mimicking the motions and holding my copper shortsword in my hand.

Wait.

What.

I stare at the weapon in my hand, amazed.

So now I'm a Cape, too.

Oh.

-[]-

After I get over my shock, I go in for another round of "let's question the Guide".

"You," I ask him while pointing the sword, "what did you do to me?"

While I'm not completely unsettled by the idea of suddenly gaining superpowers - years of media exposure to capes have put rest to that - this is still really weird.

"I haven't done anything to you, for that matter," the Guide says. "As the Champion of Terax, you have abilities beyond most, many of which you have yet to discover. As I said before, it is my role to _guide_ _you_ ," he places emphasis on those words, "through the trials which you will face."

"Really," I reply flatly, my emotions conflicting, "And those abilities would be, what, exactly?" Might as well get as much info as I can out of him. Apparently, this question was anticipated, as he launches into an explanation without delay.

"You have extra-dimensional space inside of your body which can be used to store a variety of items, many of which will help you on your adventures. You possess an innate understanding regarding the usage of any weapons you may find. Additionally, your body will recover from injuries inflicted quicker than most. Lastly, you will-" he suddenly gets a look in his eye, one I have trouble discerning.

"I will... what?" I question.

"...you will never truly die, anymore."

Alright. Hold it. Better watch out, because I'm stepping into Crazytown; Population: The Guide.

Assuming he's not just pulling my leg, that is a pretty serious detail to be flinging around. Not being able to die and all.

And, well, everything else for that matter.

"Forgive me if I sound a bit unconvinced," I respond insincerely, "but what are you saying? I can't die? What, am I invulnerable like the - the Siberian?"

Again, there is that small look of sadness he gets when he doesn't understand something.

"No, you're quite far from it I'm afraid. You see, should you take too much damage too quickly, you will be forcibly ejected from your body and returned to the center of Terax in a new one after a short amount of time."

That's... interesting.

"And the old body?" I raise an eyebrow.

"...it explodes in a small shower of viscera," he concludes reluctantly.

Well then. Exploding meat puppets.

That's also interesting, but mostly unsanitary.

I narrow my eyes at him. "As much as the prospect of infinite mulligans sounds nice, I don't want to test that anytime soon." I'm no stranger to conflict, having grown up in the Bay, but only an idiot goes looking for trouble.

"Well," he suddenly sounds more focused, "if you don't do anything for an hour, you won't get that choice."

The hell?

"Are you threatening me?" I point the sword at him again.

"A warning, actually. Past sundown, the monsters get more dangerous, and more numerous. I'm not sure if you'll be able to handle them, as you are."

Monsters more dangerous than a sentient ball of acid? Christ.

"So what are we going to do, Guide?" My mocking is tempered by a newfound sense of urgency.

He airily replies with "I recommend building shelter to wait out the night. A wooden cabin would do the trick nicely."

Did I hear that right?

"Are you seriously suggesting I build a cabin within an hour?" I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice.

"Well, a simple cube of dirt would be just as well, but you strike me as someone who takes pride in their work." He gives me a small smile after he says this.

I squint my eyes in slight frustration.

"No, I meant that you expected me to build something within an hour." Who does he think I am, Velocity?

"It shouldn't take that long at all," and then he looks at me as if I was saying something stupid.

Okay, I'll play along.

"Well then, let's do it." I turn, heading towards the nearest tree.

I get about three-quarters of the way there before I notice a distinct lack of the know-it-all.

"We, uh," I half-shout, "are we doing this or not?" I give him a look I hope matches the one he gave me earlier.

His eyes widen in surprise. "Me? I cannot help you with this. This is something only the Champion can do."

Really.

Oh well, that's just fine and dandy, isn't it?

"Lazy bastard," I speak out.

"What was that?" he calls out to me.

"I called you a lazy bastard!" I shout back to him.

Wow, he looks hurt by that.

Too bad.

-[]-

I'm standing in front of the tree, realizing that I made an idiot of myself for not asking how I was supposed to do this before I insulted the guy.

Well, I had a sword in my gut, why not an axe? I stick my free hand into my chest - that still sounds weird thinking about it - and I am surprised when I suddenly have a thought I didn't think. I can almost "see" a bunch of symbols in my mind. All but two of them are empty. The ones that aren't, are... "Copper Pickaxe", and "Copper Axe". That'll be it, then, if I can figure out how to get it.

Last time it happened, I was mocking Guide about pulling out a sword. Is it intent?

I want to use the axe.

I feel something shift in my hand that's inside my chest. At the same time, the sword in my other hand disappears completely. I pull out my hand to see the axe.

So that's how that works.

I decide to check, just to make sure, and I 'see' the "Copper Shortsword" where the axe was. Good.

Better get at it, then. I hold my axe firmly in my hands. I notice I can "feel" the best way I should be holding this thing. Looks like Guide wasn't joking around with me, after all.

Still a bit concerned about that "you will never die" part, though.

I swing with all the force I can muster, aiming at the lowest part of the tree before reaching the stump. I'm no woodsman, but in all the stuff I've seen that's where they cut them, so that's where I'll do it.

I am rewarded for my efforts with absolutely no progress whatsoever. There's not even a single _dent_ in the fucking thing.

I hit it a few more time and then I see more evidence that things are gonna get weirder before they get better.

There's a crack forming in the tree, as to be expected, except that it's nowhere near where I hit it.

Alright, that works.

I keep hitting the tree and after every couple of thwacks, I see the crack growing bigger. Eventually, it gets to reaching all the way around the trunk. I give it one final slam and get prepared to move out of the way if the tree happens to fall towards me - the tree just exploded.

The tree just exploded.

Into sticks.

And a few acorns.

What is with this place.

-[]-

I'm back at where Guide was hanging around. I don't see him, but he's probably nearby. I take out the 'wood' from my inventory, and I wonder just how something that looks like two discolored string beans is supposed to represent 'wood'.

How do I use this?

Also; first person I meet that makes a joke about 'using' my 'wood' gets a swift kick in the ass.

According to the inventory - I found out that it reveals more detailed information if I concentrate on a particular item without wanting to take it out - the 'wood' is a 'material' and 'can be placed'.

I try to place the 'wood' on the ground in front of me. It just sits there. I go pick it up.

This isn't working.

I go to throw the 'wood' on the ground in a fit of frustration. Suddenly, there's a cube of wood paneling about 2 feet all around right where I would have thrown it.

Well.

I can see how Guide thought this would be quick. I just need to figure out how to do it again.

-[]-

After some trial and error, I finally figure out some 'rules' for using objects here. The first step is having the intent to use the object. The second one is to swing the object. Really.

...Wait. Does that mean I don't need to actually hit a tree to chop it down?

The third rule is that the object can be used anywhere within a range of a few feet of me, even if where I'm putting it is out of reach. Case in point, I was able to put a 'block' on the far side of another block, even without a line of sight.

But hey, I've done it. I make a cabin - more like a really big wooden box - putting the finishing touches on it right as the sun dips below the horizon. Right before I seal the sides up - why put a door on what's supposed to be a murder-proof box? - the Guide waltzes right in like it wasn't any big deal, a smile on his face.

"Good job," he says with a sincere note in his voice, "I didn't expect anything less than competence from you."

"Thanks, I guess," I reply.

"Just put up some torches, and we'll be good for the night."

Torches? Oh, he's right. It's dark in here.

"Torches? Where do I get those?" I ask the walking exposition.

"Torches are easily made from a piece of wood and some slime gel. Did you not pick any up earlier?"

How was I to know I should have scavenged the corpse of the acid monster?

"No."

"Ah, well then, you might want to go grab some. Things get dangerous in the dark."

Well, that's not ominous at all. But if he thinks I'm going out in the dark he's got another thing coming to him.

"Well, I'm not going out there. Deal with it."

I'm expecting some rebuttal, but all I get is a shrug while he walks off to some other corner of my cozy murder-proof box.

That's... fine?

Then I started hearing the moaning from outside.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm not sleeping at all tonight.

Well, I wasn't planning on sleeping anyway, but even if I wanted to, it's a bit difficult while I'm hearing what's outside. Constantly, there's moaning from multiple directions, meaning that whatever's out there had us surrounded.

I am not looking forward to meeting them.

So I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Strangely, I'm not tired at all. I mean, it's not that unusual considering that I woke up here in the late afternoon, but sitting in a dark room usually gets me sleepy. While I'm thinking about that, the first rays of sunlight start creeping through a small knot in the wood that's no bigger than my finger. Looks like it's dawn.

I hear the moans drop off, definitely a good sign. Now I can...

Wait, what can I do?

I'm stuck in some godforsaken hellhole with monsters, superpowers, and no available way home - what do I do now?

I start to dig my way out of my murder-proof box with my pickaxe. It operates basically the same as placing wood does, only in reverse; it removes a 2 foot cube of material when swung, without regard to what you're swinging at. Doesn't work for trees, though. I guess it makes sense, in a way, but it still seems strange.

I still have no idea what I should do, though. Well, I may as well go for broke:

"Alright, Guide. Guide me."

"What?" he says.

"What do you recommend I do now?"

"Well, I recommend dealing with that, first," he says, drawing his bow. I turn to look where he is looking. While I was distracted with conversation, something that looks like a massive eyeball flies through the air - towards me!

The thing is large, about the size of my torso. While I can see it adjusting its flight path, the creature's massive pupil doesn't seem to be tracking me at all; instead, it just blankly stares straight on. It must use some other sense other than sight to know where I am.

Again; what is wrong with this place?

I quickly jump back, swapping my pickaxe to my sword wordlessly. Guide lets loose an arrow, placing it right between its - no, right _in_ its eye. The impact knocks it back a few feet. The monster must be tough, though, because it continues bouncing off the floor and walls. I dash forward, copper shortsword grasp firmly in my hand. I stab the thing in a frenzy, and I feel elation when it's skin yields easily to my blade. The small reach of the shortsword betrays me, and the creature knocks into me by chance.

It hurts _._

It doesn't look like it, but the thing must weigh a ton because I'm flung backward at speed. I feel my ribs groan with the impact, the wind taken out of me. I quickly regain my footing, the throb of pain making me focus on the monster. The thing doesn't even look any worse for the wear!

"Guide!" I yell out to him behind me, "How do we kill this thing!"

"Hit it until it dies!"

Seriously?

I eye the beast carefully. I definitely don't want to get hit again, so I need to play this smart. I can hear the Guide nock another arrow, and I remember what happened last time he did that. I've got an idea.

I get out of the way to let the Guide fire unobstructed. The arrow flies through the air, sinking into the monster and knocking it back. Now's my chance! I rush forward, taking advantage of its reversed direction to lay into it with my sword. I furiously stab the thing over and over, making sure it can't get enough speed to overcome the force of the blows.

With one last _shlick_ of the blade into monster flesh, the creature is destroyed much like the slime was, bursting into countless small chunks of viscera. I fall back onto my rear end, exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure.

We killed it.

Wow.

We killed a monster. Now that I have a chance to think about it, I can appreciate just how messed up this is. The monster looked like something out of a nightmare, something Nilbog of all things might've cooked up sometime.

And I killed it.

I really am a cape, aren't I? I mean, this ain't normal. None of it is, for that matter. You don't just go from working a nine-to-five to slaying literal _monsters_. I ain't gonna kid myself, I'm not some sort of Chuck Norris in disguise, I'm just a dockworker!

Something's screwy here, I know that much. I've got to get to the bottom of this.

I notice something twinkling on the ground near where the beast was slain. Leaning forward, I can see some flat disks shining in the sun's rays. One of the items is slightly larger than the others and is a metallic, silvery color; the rest are a coppery brown. I get within a few feet before the items fly straight at me. I cross my hands to defend myself; I don't feel any impact, however. I see the disks have disappeared, so they must work like the wood pieces. I check my inventory again. Sure enough, it reads that I have 1 silver and 37 copper now - Silver?

Silver?

Oh, my.

I quickly take out the silver piece and hold it in my hand.

"Guide," I ask, licking my lips, "is this thing pure silver?"

"Of course," he replies as if it wasn't any big deal.

Hang on a moment, I need to think about this. If these things are pure silver, then this chunk that I'm holding right here has got to be worth at least a hundred bucks. More than some people's daily wage, made in five minutes.

"Do the, uh, monsters, always leave these when they die?" If I could keep doing this...

"Yes, typically. The rarer or stronger monsters tend to drop more money than the weaker, more common ones, like that Demon Eye just now."

A Demon Eye, that's what it was called. I file that fact away for now and focus on the potential payday this place has for me.

I can make a _lot_ of money from this.

Assuming, of course, I can find a way home.

That realization puts a damper on my greedy giddiness. Money ain't nothing if you can't spend it. To do that, I have to get home. In order to get home, first I have to survive.

I certainly won't with this cruddy sword, if that last battle was anything to go by.

"Guide, is there anything better than this?" I ask, holding my copper shortsword aloft, "Because this thing took way too long to hurt that, ah, Demon Eye."

He gets a look on his face like someone's asking him if water is wet.

"Of course, of course! The Copper Shortsword is one of the weakest weapons you can find in Terax. I highly recommend you make yourself a better one as soon as you can, as well as some armor for defense. You can forge one at any crafting station you make."

Crafting station.

Right.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time he's thrown instructions that don't make any sense at me.

"How do I make this crafting station?" I question.

"Just, ah," he gets a bit - what's the word? - flummoxed, at that, "just do what you do to access your inventory. You should see something new if you look for it."

Might as well go for it. I reach into my chest again, 'seeing' the familiar symbols. I heed his advice and try to 'notice' anything new that I may have missed before - ah.

There's a different symbol, some 'distance' away from the others. It's hard to explain such a metaphorical concept; imagine something that's nearby, yet doesn't stand out unless you're looking for it.

I try to interact with it the same way as with the inventory slots - sending a pulse of subconscious intent towards the symbol. I'm surprised when the symbol shifts to the side, allowing a column of 3 different symbols to appear. Two of the shapes I do not recognize.

The first unknown shape is what looks like one-half of the 'wood' representation symbol, but with a small number '2' in the lower right corner of the symbol. Having previously used 'wood' symbols to construct the cabin, I know that the number represents an amount of units of that symbol in my possession, but apparently, it can also represent potential gain.

I decide to focus my intent on the item like I do when I want to examine an item in my inventory without withdrawing it. When I do that, a new symbol suddenly appears to the side of the unknown one, as well as a description of the unknown symbol. Apparently, the item is a "wooden platform", which like wood "can be placed". The symbol that appears to the side is the symbol for wood, which I already know.

I choose to 'activate' the "wooden platform" symbol as I would an inventory item. I send the intent impulse and withdraw my hand. I now am holding a bigger version of the new symbol I saw, much like how the 'wood' symbol behaved. I check my inventory again, and I see that my 'wood' symbol count has decreased by 1.

I think I understand how this works, now. The unknown symbols represent "craftable" items. The symbol(s?) that appear when I focus on a craftable item is the item used to create the desired item, and are lost when used to make them. The actual crafting process is instantaneous and unseen, occurring in the inventory space.

Interesting.

I place the wooden platform on the cabin floor to see what it looks like.

It just floats in the air, nothing supporting it.

Right.

Well, that ain't nothing that new thanks to Glory Girl flying around all the time and that "Kid Win" guy with his hover-board, but still, a bit surprising.

Regardless, I look at the two other remaining symbols. The next one looks like a side view of a simple wooden coffee table. Examining it further shows it to be called a "Work Bench" - sounds like a winner. However, I pass over it for a moment to look at the last symbol: a copper coin symbol with a '100' count on it. If I'm reading it correctly, it'll convert one silver coin to one hundred copper coins.

While that sounds pretty impressive - especially considering it completely violates the law of conservation of mass - I'm not entirely sure that it's profitable, so I'll pass for now.

Speaking of profits, that reminds me - this is still very strange, the issue with the coins. Why does a monster place money down when it dies? What's the deal here?

I'll have to find out more about this later if I get the chance.

-[]-

I go back and create the workbench, noting the loss of ten pieces of wood. Now that I have the symbol for the work bench in my inventory, I place it down in front of me. Suddenly, a large square table appears before me. It's about 4 feet across and waist-high. More squares, huh? Seems to be a theme.

Anyway, now I've got a workbench, so I should be able to make more stuff, I think. I go back to my crafting list - wow, he wasn't kidding. There's suddenly a lot more recipes available to me - there it is, 'Wooden Sword'! That's what I need. I've already collected a good amount of wood, so I waste no time in crafting it.

I pull it out to inspect it. My newly-crafted 'blade' - if it can be called one - is definitely larger than the copper one I was using before and has considerably more heft to it. Its length and shape make it more suited for a slashing motion than a stabbing one, however. I'll have to change how I'll approach the monsters; get too close, and I won't have enough room to swing the sword.

Wait a minute; is this like how the pickaxe works, where it won't matter how hard I swing so long as I hit it? I wasn't really paying attention with the Demon Eye from before, I was too caught up in the moment. I'll have to try it to know.

Damn, this place is confusing.

-[]-

Before I headed out, I've crafted everything of interest in my newly-enlarged crafting list. Tools I didn't have before - a hammer and a fishing pole - are now in my inventory, ready for use. More important than the tools, however, is the _armor_ that I'm currently wearing.

Yeah, armor. Really! I feel like I'm some kinda medieval knight, wearing this getup. I was surprised when I first noticed it after taking a more in-depth look at the new crafting list; though, I really shouldn't have been, what with the sword I made. There are three pieces of the outfit, or three recipes, to be exact: a set of 'Wooden Greaves", a "Wooden Breastplate", and a "Wooden Helmet". Each of the pieces alone took much more wood than I spent on the workbench, leaving me with only seven pieces when I finished.

Then I tried putting it on. Well, that let me learn another quirk about my powers.

Originally, I took it out of my inventory, but it was only an enlarged symbol of the item, like when placing wood. If I haven't mentioned it before, holding a symbol is... weird. It doesn't weigh anything, like holding a filled balloon. The strangest thing about it, though, is that no matter how much I turn it in my hand, it's always fully visible to me. It's like one of those optical illusion things.

Anyway, I'm on a tangent.

I attempted to place it, thinking maybe that's how it's done, but no dice. I ended up asking Guide about it, and he tells me it's in the same 'place' as my inventory. So, I go looking in there again, like how I found the crafting list. Sure enough, there's a new set of empty box symbols that I hadn't noticed before. These ones had information about them when I looked, which helped me a lot in figuring out what they did. I've got three sets of 'slots': one dealing with the greaves, one for the breastplate, and one for the helmet. Additionally, every set each had three unique descriptions: an 'armor' slot, a 'vanity' slot, and a 'dye' slot.

Of course, I had no idea what that meant at all.

After some trial and error, I figured out how it worked. Turns out I had to 'place' the armor in the slot for it to work, like moving a computer file from one folder to another. The dye slot was a no-go; it didn't let me place it in there.

Again, this is some really weird mind-stuff, so I can only say it how I felt it.

The vanity slot gave me some results, though. I placed the wooden breastplate in the slot, and suddenly it appeared on me!

Only not really.

I went to touch the armor and my hand went right through where it should have been, grabbing my shirt-sleeve instead. The entire thing was like it, looking like it was there but actually wasn't. Suddenly the name, 'vanity', made sense to me; what was in the slot would be for appearances only, a 'dress-up' item. If I ever wanted to make a fashion statement, now I at least knew how.

The last slot, armor, was what I needed. I took it out of the vanity slot, causing it to disappear and leave me in my plain work-shirt once more. Placing it in the armor slot caused it to reappear, only this time the thing was solid to the touch. I hazarded a guess to believe that things in the armor slot actually protected me, so I'll keep it in there for now.

As I was placing the greaves and helmet on myself indirectly, I also noticed that there were five more sets of slots near the armor ones; these were 'accessory' slots, whatever that meant. Accessories? What am I, some teenage girl?

Anyway, so here I am, all dolled up in my wooden armor and matching sword. I never really thought the idea of wooden armor could work - or be somewhat imposing for that matter - but somehow it does. The suit perfectly fits me, and it honestly doesn't feel like I'm wearing it at all, more like a second layer of skin than a hunk of dead tree. The only problem with it is that it doesn't cover my face.

I mean, it's not really that big a deal here, assuming I'm not in Brockton Bay anymore (I believe the guy when he said I wasn't but, you know, "trust but verify"). This issue is if I ever make it back. Some guy looks at me for five seconds in this getup, he's gonna remember my face. That, again, assumes that I'm gonna be wearing this thing when I get home.

The whole, "I'm a Parahuman" business I have to deal with, it's still nagging at me in the back of my mind.

I'll think about it later.

So, here I go. First real steps into this place and geared up for a fight.

Time to see what's out there.


	4. Chapter 4

I step outside the opening I made in the cabin, having checked and re-checked my armor and weapons beforehand. I got two things I have to do: First, get the lay of the land. I need to know what's out there. Second, gather supplies. I want to grab some of that slime gel that Guide was talking about earlier, at the very least. It sounds like it'll be useful to have, if only for making torches. Of course, there's another elephant in the room that I need to talk about:

Food. Or rather, the lack of it.

It's been close to twenty-four hours now, by my reckoning, and I'm not hungry nor thirsty at all. I'm starting to think that all this - not being tired after 24 hours, not feeling the hunger pangs, all that stuff - that it may be another part of the weird things that's happened to me.

I might not need that stuff anymore, is what I'm saying. I don't quite know how to feel about that, to be honest.

On one hand, hey, saves me a ton of money on buying it, so points there. On the other hand, hey, here's another thing that's weird about you, freak.

Not saying that I'm completely upset by the idea, but some people might be a little weirded out if they knew.

...What am I thinking? If they knew? Who's _they?_ It's not like I'm going to blab this out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry I meet on the street.

You really get a different perspective on things when something like this happens. When I think about it, I just... I really just don't see what the problem is. Christ, I'm a _Parahuman_. Weird things are practically normal around them.

Still coming to terms with that fact, I guess.

-[]-

I start heading roughly east, towards the rising sun. I don't get too far before I run into another one of those 'slimes'. Unlike before, it doesn't seem to notice me, hopping around like nothing's wrong.

Also unlike before, I'm prepared to murder it.

I grip my wooden sword tightly in my hand, feeling its firmness. Am I really going to do this?

Yeah, I am. Sorry, buddy. It's you or me.

I resist the urge to shout out a battle cry and start running towards the monster. Hefting the blade, I deliver a firm thwacking into the slime's middle; thanks to its length, I'm well out of contact range. It bounces back a good two feet from the force of the blow, appreciably more than what the copper shortsword did. I press the advantage and continue my assault, tearing into the slime as its green flesh-jello yields to my blade. It only takes three more swings of my sword before the creature expires, exploding like its predecessor into a shower of slimy slivers.

That's it? Well, now I know why Guide gave me that look when I yelled at him earlier - that slime's easy to beat!

I probably shouldn't be getting this excited about killing things.

I look again where the creature was destroyed, and sure enough, there's something there. A few copper pieces and something new, one of those symbols-made-real, like the wood from the trees. It's a simple green-colored mass, looking like a deflated biscuit. I get closer and allow the items to fly into me. Still a bit weird, but...

Alright, the inventory says it's called "gel", as I expected. It's a crafting material, and also ammunition...? It's ammunition, really? I'll have to see that. Wait, there's something else below:

 _"Both tasty and flammable"_

I think I'll pass on trying that one, thanks.

I check my crafting menu again, now that I have the gel in my inventory. There's the new recipe - three torches, a new symbol there, made with one piece of gel and wood. I use it, pulling out the newly-made torches and placing one on the ground in front of me. Well, it's a torch alright, a simple straight piece of wood with a burning end. It lit itself, too. I get out my pickaxe and mine it like I've done with the wooden blocks on the cabin. I was right earlier, by the way - I don't need to actually hit the object to interact with it, except when using the sword. The torch immediately switches to its symbol form, lying on the ground. I grab it and place it again, noting that it lights itself again without issue, before putting it back with the others.

I'll be honest, this is kinda cool.

-[]-

I eventually find the landscape to change, shifting from (mostly) peaceful forest to rolling mounds and hills. Some of them have a cave that cuts through, short enough that the ambient light from each end is enough to illuminate the tunnel.

I wanna take a moment to just appreciate how beautiful this place is. It really is, you know? The air's cleaner than anything I've ever breathed in my entire life, none of that tang to it that the factories bring. It's nice.

I pass through one of the tunnels, placing one of my torches on the interior dirt wall. I ran into three more slimes along the way, and they died easily enough to my blade, giving me enough gel to make twelve more (the last one dropped two pieces). I figure that if they're as common as Guide says, there's no reason to be stingy with the torches. I'll have plenty when I get back to the cabin.

Speaking of the cabin, there's yet another weird thing about this place that I've noticed. Most of the landscape I've seen is like when I placed the wood; everything's blocky. It matches the dimensions of the wood cube, with each increment being roughly two feet across, judging from my height. The hills are more like one of those Mayan step pyramids than an actual dirt pile. I haven't seen a single curved land formation since I got here, which now that I think about it, is pretty much impossible. Normally, the weight of the dirt would cause it to fall into a cone shape. I wasn't really thinking about it when building the cabin, what with having to rush it, but the only explanation I can think of is that the landscape isn't affected by physics, sorta like that platform back at the cabin.

But yet, I remember feeling the dirt sift between my fingers when I got here. So it only reacts to outside force?

I lean on a nearby dirt wall. It firmly holds my weight, giving no signs of yielding.

Okay, it doesn't get affected by gravity, yet is able to hold its position against my body (which should be impossible since gravity and friction are related), but breaks against my pickaxe?

I think I can imagine history's physicists spinning in their graves right now.

The block-like nature of, well, nature, makes everything look artificial, like it was built, rather than a natural landscape. Curious.

There are also a few places where the dirt makes a slope, but it's always a perfect forty-five-degree angle. I wonder if I can get the wooden blocks on the cabin to do that.

In general, the landscape here is pretty weird.

-[]-

Right, I take it back. The landscape isn't pretty weird.

It's extremely weird.

I climb up the hill that's larger than the others and stretches as far as I can see, both in order to continue exploring the landscape as well as to get a good vantage point.

Only it's not a hill, but rather a slope.

That leads to a desert.

Not brushlands, not a transitioning plain, no I mean a full-blown "dig a hole, dump the body and drive away" desert full of sand and cacti, like the Nevada. Just sitting pretty at the top of this slope. No warning, nothing, I can see an actual line where the grass stops and the loose sand begins.

It's just _there._

I stare at it for a bit, taking it in.

Well, this definitely puts to rest any doubts I had about this place being unnatural. I'm no geographer, but even I can tell that something's seriously wrong here. For starters, it's not actually hot. I remember reading once that deserts were hot because of the lack of water in the soil, so the sunlight doesn't have anything to do and makes the ground hotter instead. But it's not hot here, it feels exactly like it does in the forest, so there's no reason for all this sand to be here!

This place makes no sense, I swear.

Unfortunately, just saying that it doesn't make sense over and over doesn't do anything, so I just have to roll with the punches.

I can see what looks like a vulture close by, eyeing me critically. Probably hoping I'll die so it has a meal. I forgot how big these guys are; it's at least half as big as I am.

I take a few steps towards it and it leaps into the air. Probably doesn't want to let me get too close to it, huh? I watch as it circles above me lazily. Aren't they supposed to fly a lot higher up, though?

Now it's flying towards me.

I dive out of the way as it rushes by me, scrabbling to my feet as fast as I can. I could feel the breeze it generated as a testament to its speed. I have the feeling that I really don't want this thing to hit me.

I can see it flying around for another pass at me. I know I've got the disadvantage here, being stuck on the ground. I really wish I could hit it at range.

Suddenly a thought occurs to me:

Guide has a bow and arrow.

God, why didn't I ask him how to make one! I feel like an idiot! I mean, I didn't see it in the crafting list, but I still should have asked him about it!

This is a thought for another time, however, as the killer bird interrupts my mental monologue. It swoops down to me once more, attempting to use its sheer size as a living wrecking ball. If it's anything like that Demon Eye, that's gonna hurt if it connects.

Oh, wait a minute, the Demon Eye wasn't going that fast when it hit me, but it still left me reeling. If they're both heavy for their sizes, but the Vulture is going a lot faster...

Well, physics wasn't my strong suit in highschool, but even I know that that's really bad for me. And I'm gonna try to get within sword range of this thing?

Forget that, I'll come back with better equipment.

I dodge the Vulture's attack and start running back the way I came. It gives chase, which while unfortunate for me, also tells me a bit more about these monsters. For one, they are extremely aggressive - yeah, big surprise, I know. What I mean is, they're trying to kill me on sight, to the point of pursuit. They're not just territorial, no, these things are actively out for my blood.

Think about that. I don't know if I've ever felt that before, that raw sense that most of the world is out to get you. I mean, sure, in the Bay I've had a difficult upbringing, who didn't, but there wasn't the complete and total war that this hellhole brings.

Well, that's not entirely true. That squirrel didn't try to kill me.

Yet.

Secondly, I shouldn't think these things actually act like what they look like. Vultures, as far as I know, are scavengers, not predators. I can't trust my prior knowledge about it, gotta be ready for anything.

-[]-

I managed to lose the bird after running for a solid 15 minutes or so, going over and around the landscape. When I got far enough away from it, it turned around and went back the way it came.

Thank God for small mercies. I don't think I'm ready to deal with the desert just yet.

I walk straight back to the cabin, running into only two more slimes along the way. They're just as easily dispatched as the others were, getting me some more gel and copper coins. I noticed that whenever I have more than one hundred of them, they're automatically made into a silver one - guess that recipe works both ways. I'll make a quick stop before checking out the other areas; put up the torches, ask about the bow, that stuff. Might take a nap, too. I'm not tired, but I haven't taken an actual break since I got here, if you don't count constantly listening to monsters moaning at midnight as a break. It'll be nice to just rest a bit, emotionally, I guess.

Don't tell anyone I said that though.

"Guide, did you know that there are really big birds in the desert that will try to kill you?" I deadpan as I walk through the empty doorframe - I should really see about putting a door in, shouldn't I?

He perks up from whatever he's doing when I'm not here, "Ah, you went to the desert, did you?" He blinks, and his eyes narrow. "No no no, you shouldn't have, your current equipment simply won't do. You need to make better armor." No, really?

"Alright, well, what would you suggest?"

"You should do some mining to find metal ore. You can craft very useful things with it."

Mining, huh? Normally I would balk at the idea, but it doesn't seem that difficult with the magic pickaxe or whatever it is.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll get to it in a bit."

"Oh?" he asks, 'What's keeping you?"

It's none of his business, but whatever.

"I'm taking a nap. Wake me up in an hour, would you?"

I think I can trust him enough not to kill me. I think.

He gets real quiet for a moment before he responds in the affirmative. I nod back and go sit against one of the walls of the cabin. A trick you should learn is that people can sleep in any position they want, it just takes some effort.

Time to relax a bit...

-[]-

When I open my eyes, I see darkness. I shoot up, readying my sword in case of a sudden monster attack. God damn it, Guide! He left me to sleep when I specifically told him otherwise! The doorframe was left empty, a monster could have walked right in, I could have died in my sleep, I could have...

The thought trails off as I take in my surroundings.

This is my home.

My home in Brockton Bay.


End file.
